


Film (Chat) Noir

by MiraculousSpaghetti



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged Up, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Noir, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9328415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraculousSpaghetti/pseuds/MiraculousSpaghetti
Summary: A quiet P.I. office finally meets the case its been waiting for, when a headstrong young woman barges in demanding to partner up with the city's best investigator. Obviously, he turns her down. This case could get dangerous for this pretty little thing and, besides, the Chat works alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly short fic I thought up entirely on account of the pun-ny name. Super ooc, but that's not really the point. I kinda just wanted to try writing a short flim-noir-esque fic with Chat Noir.
> 
> Also, this would be my first work. So cheers!

**Film (Chat) Noir**

    It was late. Past clock-out time. I was still in my office sorting paperwork. The room, it smelled of dust and cheese. Camembert to be exact. The last few rays of sunlight were peering through my broken blinds. The investigations office has been slow lately. There still lots of crimes, lots of mysteries out there, but no one seems to bother anymore. No one seems to care.

    They call me Chat, or Chat Noir, because, like a damn cat, I’m always around when you don’t need me, yet never there when you do. I, however, am not my office. I was clean. I smelled of cologne. And I’ve been sweating inside this black spandex suit beneath my overcoat for the last two hours. Unlike the investigations office, I also am busy. Nine to five spent waiting for a case in this Parisian high rise, and then seven to ten as Paris’s most well-known model: a young man, pressured into the business by his father. Truthfully, I couldn’t care less about the fame, the money, or the women. Sure it’s nice, but this is where I’m meant to be. There’s evil men out there, see. Someone has to bring them in, and if that means using an ancient god to disguise my identity and working truly undercover on the side, then so be it.

    It had just passed five-thirty when the office secretary, a young women by the name of Alya Césaire, buzzed my office. Apparently, I had a visitor who couldn’t wait until tomorrow. I sighed. It was a long, drawn out sigh. It was dry and left a bad taste. I grabbed a glass, poured myself some scotch and told Ms. Césaire to let them in.

    Next thing I knew, there was this beautiful women standing on the other side of my desk. Her dress was a bright pink, like petals of a cherry blossom tree, covered only by a dark blazer: a look that was both playfully casual, yet sternly professional. Her eyes, were like a pair of oceans: a dark blue, both deep and mysterious. Her lips: a bright red that challenged the vibrancy of the setting sun. Her hair: a black that mirrored an endless void, bending only to the ties keeping it out of her face.

    She’d been going on for at least a few minutes now. I see her type all the time: head strong, think they know what’s going on, and way over their heads.

    She didn’t like the way I poured myself another glass of scotch. She didn’t like the way I clearly wasn’t paying attention. She didn’t like the way I said “Calm down, _tuts_.”

    I definitely didn’t like the way she smacked me across the face.

    Apparently, this Marinette, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, had been concerned about the criminal activity going down at the docks: jewelry shipments stolen, workers missing and a handful of shady characters lurking around the area.

    Like I said, way over her head.

    I told her I’d take on the case. Anything to get me out of that late night studio after all was good enough for me. She insisted on coming with me. I told her to leave the detective work to the professionals. She didn’t like the way I said " _professionals"_. Or the way I said “ _tuts_ ” again. Or just about anything I said. Feisty.

    I definitely didn’t like the way she smacked me across the face. Again.

    She was clearly unhappy with my decision, but this cat works alone. I told her to give her details to Ms. Césaire. When she was gone, I punched out of the office and escaped through my office window.

    The Chat was on the prowl.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it. Its only the child of a couple hours of writing and some jazz music in the background, so its not terribly polished, but I'm pretty satisfied with it.
> 
> I might have some ideas for a follow up involving an upstart independent p.i. by the name "Ladybug" or "Lady Luck", but we'll see.
> 
> Anyways, you can look me up on tumblr @miraculous-spaghetti
> 
> Thanks for reading. Cheers!


End file.
